Angels
by WaveMoonstone
Summary: When Castiel breaks free from Naomi's trance and flees with the Angel tablet, can he ever hope for Dean to forgive him?


Sitting in the back of the Greyhound bus was a new experience for Castiel; he had observed humanity from afar in the garrison for many millennia but he had never been this immersed. There was so much emotion everywhere: hope, anger, fear, annoyance, and joy were all reflected onto the faces of humans as they toiled about their day. He found it fascinating how such trivial things could shift their mood such as getting a raise or the rain.

The bus rolled to a stop in a city called Los Angeles, and Castiel clutched his backpack tighter from where it rested on his lap, concealing the treasure inside. Castiel had not lied to Dean when he said it was his job to protect the word of God; it was not necessarily his duty as an angel, but he still felt compelled to hang onto the only thing he had of his father of sorts. An absent, negligent father, but he still coveted the tablet not unlike Dean coveted John Winchester's notebook. He had no love for Naomi's rule of heaven, but he could also not let the tablet fall into Crowley's hands and risk many angel's lives.

Castiel felt horrible for leaving Dean like that, he hated leaving Dean, but he could only think about how much Dean would hate him for almost killing him. Although he knew somewhere his actions were not his fault but Naomi's, he still could not live with the guilt of killing another angel and almost killing Dean. He could not bear to look at Dean's face without feeling the crushing guilt and sadness he had caused Dean, his loyal Dean, who had always been faithful, who always believed in him, even when Castiel has nearly killed him. When he touched the tablet, he came to his senses and did the only thing he could — flee, flee somewhere, anywhere, where he could not have to be reminded of the pain Dean had suffered at his hand. Sam would look after Dean, he always did. Dean could count on Sam, unlike him.

Castiel exited the steep steps of the bus and walked towards the station, raindrops falling on his shoulder as he grabbed flier-sized map of Los Angeles. There were people everywhere- smoking in a group next to a bench, eating hot food under the shelter of the plastic roofing, wandering in groups back and forth. Castiel walked on, not caring where he ended up, mostly immersed in the humans around him while clutching the shoulder strap of his backpack as if assuring himself it was there.

He had been walking awhile through all kinds of streets, almost always packed with the roar of noisy car's and people filling down the sidewalks in a kind of organized chaos, when he spotted a large church. Castiel gravitated towards the entrance, following throngs of people crossing the busy street together. This particular church had a large, circular stained glass window in front and a wooden sign stuck into the browned grass next to the side walk stating, "Christian Fellowship Church." Castiel stepped under the decorative overhang out of the rain, and blew the rain off of his clothes, and walked inside.

The inside was like most churches; a path in between long, wooden pews led to an intricately carved altar in front of a mosaic of Mary and a large cross. Castiel had come here out of habit. He was supposed to feel protected here, in the house of the Lord. But being here, seeing people sitting quietly in the pews, bent over praying to a God who would never answer made him angry. God does not protect these people; people like the Winchesters are the protectors. God does not save families from ghost haunting or perform exorcisms, God does not selflessly save lives and ask nothing in return.

"Son, is something troubling you?" a wrinkled priest asked Castiel, who had been too lost in thought to notice his approach. He made a mental note to be more vigilant in the future- he was sure that Crowley's minions were out in full force searching for him and the angel tablet.

"Father, I thought I had gotten over the anger I felt towards God's absence but I haven't. Why would he abandon us? Heaven and Earth are in violent disarray and when we need his guidance most he is nowhere to be found," Castiel contemplated out loud, looking the aged priest right in the eyes and understanding what he saw in them.

"God lives on through us all and will not abandon those with faith. It is hard to interpret the will of the Lord, as he works in mysterious ways, but he will always be there for his believers in the afterlife, if not more," the priest replied smiling sincerely. Castiel felt horrible for the priest, who had undoubtedly put all of his faith in God for his whole life but was unimportant and insignificant in God's eyes, like himself.

Castiel smiled back at the priest as warmly as an angel could, and left the church. The dark clouds of the storm that had occupied the sky had mostly past and now blended into the dark sky of the night. He followed the dimly lit sidewalk, lit by aged streetlights and lights from the neon signs and displays of the large city.

Most people by this time of night were heading home to their families and friends, to sleep through the night with familiar company, but Castiel had no such comfort. He needed no such comfort; angels did not feel the sting of cold like humans, the need to sleep or eat. But even so, he still missed the numbered nights spent at cheap motels in the company of Sam and Dean Winchester. Being with them felt like being with family, even more so than being with fellow angels. They were both so emotionally passionate and opinionated that they constantly held the spotlight of his fascination.

Especially Dean. He could never deny that Dean was his favorite Winchester. Dean was a caring and dedicated warrior and a loyal and funny friend. Watching different emotions play out on Dean's face was Castiel's favorite pastime. The small laugh lines crinkling at his eyes while laughing at Sam's jokes, the intense stare and small smile while watching Dr Sexy M.D., the anger flaring his nostrils and scowling mouth during a hunt, the pouted mouth and wide eyes asking Castiel if he can have Castiel's slice of pie was the reason that Castiel had steadily fallen in love.

Never before had Castiel allowed himself to get attached to someone. Angels rarely get attached to mortals who quickly die, but Castiel could not help himself from falling utterly, irrevocably in love.


End file.
